Of Theirin Blood
by Rowan.DhampirAngel16
Summary: Being a descendant of the Theirin bloodline was thought impossible by many – those from long ago and of modern Ferelden. Originally, Myra Theirin shouldn't even exist since both her ancestors were Grey Wardens. But King Alistair Theirin and his Queen, Myridia Cousland, produced an heir... Please review!
1. Prologue

**~Prologue~**

The few servants, who were nearby temporarily abandoned their duties, watched their King pace to and fro within the hall outside his chambers. He was forbidden by Wynne and a couple of nursemaids from entering to see his Queen. He stopped once in a few moments to stare at the heavy oak wood door with longing and concern. Once in a while, a couple of servants would try to calm down their King in hopes for him to sit and at least relax and patiently wait a little longer. His brow forward in thought, but simply shook it off.

A few times he would tell them he was alright and they had nothing to worry about. They knew better than that. He was a worry-wart, and at heart, a caring man. His Queen was a Grey Warden like himself and faced many hardships along beside him. The event that took place in Ostagar nearly four years ago was still an open wound. He had lost many dear friends of his from the Order and nearly had lost the woman he soon began to care for later in the year. They gathered an army together, saved Arl Eamon and his family, also saved Redcliff, and took on hordes of darkspawn – then the Archdemon in Denerim – all in one year.

Now, three years later, he's out here pacing and dearly wanting to know if his Queen was alright. She had gone into labor hours ago – yes, in labor. His Queen, Myridia Cousland-Theirin, had finally conceived a child, though both Wardens thought it hopeless. He was hopeful and so was she, and now here they were – awaiting the birth of their first child. The King felt anxious, could hardly sit still long enough to actually think straight or hold a coherent conversation. He sent word out to their former traveling companions, their friends who fought alongside them till the end. Sten was the first to arrive, a Qunari he and Myridia found caged in Lothering. Myridia's mabari was the first to greet the tall and broad-shouldered Qunari.

During the first two weeks Sten was here, the King would always find him in the kitchen helping the cooks bake pastries, mostly cookies and cakes. He thought it was a funny sight, it always brought a smile and he felt much more relaxed around the Qunari soldier. Wynne arrived a few days ago with Lelianna then followed Oghren. Zevran on the other hand, nearly gave him a fright appearing out of nowhere in his and Myridia's room. Though, he had silenced a would-be assassin and failed miserably on trying not to wake them. He shook his head at the thought of the Antivan elf, though grateful of what he done, saving the lives of his wife and unborn child.

"So, still pacing the halls, Warden-King? I doubt our fearless leader would be happy with you stressing over her." Zevran's thick antivan accent sounded behind him.

The Warden-King turned and stared at the Antivan elf briefly, seeming a bit out of thought. He shook his head to clear it and forced his hand through his short dark golden-blonde hair.

"Still calling her 'fearless leader,' are you?" he said. "It's nearly been three years since the Blight, four when she spared your life, you would-be assassin…"

"Would-be assassin?!" Zevran feign hurt, though his golden eyes danced with sarcastic amusement. "I was once of the Antivan Crows, mind you." He said with a chuckle.

"Yes, yes, I know that. Still hiding from them, I take it? You know you're welcome to stay here in Denerim. Myridia would be happy to have you here." The King said.

There was a tinkle in the Antivan elf's eyes and the Warden-King barely stifled a groan. He never liked that look, he knew it would lead the Antivan into trouble. He sighed and shook his head, glancing at the bedroom door once more.

"She'll do fine, my King." Zevran said, hoping to help calm some nerves in his friend. "She's strong and the child will too. Besides you're the kid's father, no?" he wasn't trying to pull a joke on the Warden-king, but he wasn't all that good with words for situations like these.

"You're right. Myridia is strong and so will our child, but it just make me worry." The king stated, "She and I are Grey Wardens, so the child will also hold the taint within him or her. I just-"

Zevran placed a gloved hand on his Warden-friend's shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze.

"She **_will _**be fine," with a soft smile he added, "And so will your heir."

The door opened and both man and elf looked over. One of the nursemaids stepped out and closed the door gently behind her and looked up to her King, who took a few steps forward. She shook her head and held out a hand to stop him.

"No, no. You cannot go in just yet." The Nursemaid told him sternly.

With a frustrated sigh, the King turned around and went back to pacing. Sten stood in the doorway leading into another hall in the direction of the kitchen. The Qunari held a few cookies in one hand and munched at another sort of ceremonially. Myridia's mabari hound, Arlathan she named him, sat beside Sten, watching his mistress' husband. Ogrhen was somewhere in the castle, but the King had an inkling where the dwarf was - somewhere where the keg of ale would be. This time, he tried his best to be patient. The nursemaid returned with a bowl of hot water and more towels. He bit the inside of his lip and prayed to the Maker for the well-being of his wife and child.

Then, at that very moment when he turned his back to the door to look out the tall slender window, the wailing cry of a baby echoed within the bedroom. He turned sharply towards the door, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Lelianna and Oghren appeared, the dwarf a little tipsy, and Sten and Zevran had looked up as well. Arlathan, the mabari hound, stood up onto his paws and let out an excited bark. A few heartbeats later, the door opened and Wynne poked her head out the door. Her aged smile was warm, but also tired. The elderly mage had stayed up majority of the night helping Myridia as much as she could until the birthing.

"Come, Alistair," Wynne gently and tiredly spoke. "Come see your wife and son."

Alistair's chest swelled with relief and also joy. A son – Myridia had given birth to a son. Alistiar, hesitant at first, stepped towards the door. Wynne ducked back into the room and Alistair followed. Lelianna and Arlathan stepped towards the door, but Zevran stood in their way. He tsked them with playful friendliness, his smile warm and hinting. Lelianna reluctantly stepped back, understanding what Zevran was hinting at. Sten had finished his cookies except for the ones Oghren managed to snatch from him. The Qunari squared his shoulders and held his head a little higher, Lelianna rolled her eyes and giggled at the horned-man.

"The elf is correct. Kadan and the Warden-King must be left alone with their newborn offspring." He said.

Zevran simply chuckled, a warm sound rare for the Antivan to do, but he felt happy for his two friends. '_I wonder if I can get the child to call me Uncle Zev.' _The Antivan elf shook his head and smiled at the thought, _'Now __**that **__is a funny thought.'_

Alistair stood a couple feet away from the foot of the bed, watching as his wife cooed lovingly at their child she held in her arms. Myridia glanced up and smiled towards her husband, he could tell she was exhausted. He rounded the corner of their bed and moved to sit beside her on the edge of the mattress. He leaned against the headboard and gently against her shoulder, looked down at a pair of bright blue sapphire eyes, deep as the Amaranthine Sea in color. The babe reached up to him with a toothless grin, giggling and a gurgle of baby sounds. Alistair smiled softly, warmly to his son. He brought his hand up and his son wrapped a small hand around his pointer finger. Alistair felt like he was going to cry out of happiness, tearing up a little.

His Queen, Myridia, caught sight of the silent tears and kissed her husband's cheek. Alistair turned his head to his wife and smiled. Myridia laid her head against his shoulder once she passed her newborn baby to Alistair. Alistair gently and carefully took his son into his arms, Wynne helped Myridia lie down and shooed Alistair up so she could tend to exhausted wife. He took the baby outside the room for the others to see and Lelianna cooed and baby-talked his son. Zevran commented a few times on how the child had Alistair's hair and Myridia's eyes. Arlathan whined and whimpered, wanting to see the babe as well.

Alistair chuckled softly and kneeled down for the mabari warhound to see as well. Both his son and the hound took to each other quickly, Alistair smiled. Sten surprisingly asked if he could hold the child. Alistair was baffled, but agreed and carefully passed his son over to the Qunari. The horned-man held the babe in his arms as if Alistair's son was a fragile glass figurine. The King of Ferelden thought it was oddly cute – A Qunari holding a small human baby.

"What's the little tyke's name?" Oghren asked.

Alistair's eyebrows knitted together; honestly, he and Myridia haven't thought of any names yet. They kept on wondering if their child was going to be a girl or a boy, but now it turned out to be a son. A name came to mind and his features softened, a soft smile crossed his lips.

"Zayne." Alistair said softly, then spoke up, clearing his throat. "His name is Zayne."

"Zayne Theirin," Zevran grinned his usual grin. "Son of Alistair Theirin and Myridia Cousland, Prince of Ferelden." The Antivan liked the ring to the name. "A mighty fine name, no?" he laughed.

"It's a wonderful name." Myridia's voice chimed in.

Alistair and the others looked up and over towards the bedroom door. Myridia stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe and a tired look in her eyes. She smiled to her friends and to the man she loved dearly. Alistair hurried over to her. Wynne looked a bit flustered by Myridia's refusal to lay back down.

"Should you be up, I mean, out of bed and all after-"

"I'm fine, love. No need to worry." Myridia laughed warmly, leaning into Alistiar's chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

Sten stepped forward and returned the babe to its mother. Myridia cradled her son in her arms and smiled down lovingly to her child.

"Zayne." She murmured his name with a soft smile.


	2. Chapter 1

**~Chapter One~**

Denerim, the capital of Ferelden and birthplace of the first child born to two Grey Wardens, had changed greatly over the past centuries. Now it was a bustling city with tall skyscrapers and office buildings, small corporate businesses, and quite a few schools. The only thing that seemed to remain unchanged was the Royal Palace and Fort Drakon. In city square, a monument was placed in memory of two Grey Wardens, the King and Queen of Ferelden who led the nation into victory against the fifth Blight. An obsidian head stone was also placed on either side of the monument, creating a semi-circle around a stone bench and a small garden of flowers. On the headstone was the Grey Warden motto in the middle and the names of those who fought alongside the two Wardens.

Myra Theirin, descendent of the two Wardens, stood before the monument. She stared up at the bronze faces of her ancestors as she held a bouquet of white lilies in her right hand. She wondered what kind of lives they led before they took up the oaths as Wardens – well, she wondered about many things. She wondered about her family history following Zayne Theirin, only son borne to Myridia and Alistair Theirin. There was a monument of Zayne in the large garden at the Royal Palace, though now it was a museum than her home like it had been to many generations of Theirins and their heirs after the Warden King and Queen. Myra stepped forward, kneeled down as she laid the white lilies at the base of the monument and silent said a prayer.

With a soft sigh, she stood up and looked up once more to her ancestors. She stood there for a long moment then turned away and walked down the four steps leading to the sidewalk. Myra pulled the hood of her jacket over her head and stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets as she walked. It was midsummer; the sun was out and beating down on the city in all its fiery golden glory. She never particularly like the sun and she was paler than most. It was a trait she inherited through the Theirin blood from Alistair and Myridia Cousland. The taint, she was told, was the main factor. It was stronger than most of the Wardens back in the days of old, but do you expect? A child of between two Wardens was bound to have stronger traces of the taint.

Myra stopped at the corner of the sidewalk waiting, like a few other people, for the green figure of a walker. She glanced about the people she stood among, a few city elves and a couple of dwarves, most of the people were human like her. Myra let out a heavy sigh, reasons why were unknown to her for the moment. The green light came on and she walked, picking up the pace to keep from being trampled on by the business-type and the impatient. When she crossed the street, her cellphone rang in her pocket. She fished it out and checked the caller ID before answering.

"Myra here." She answered.

"Hey, Myr'! What'cha up to now? You're not still at the memorial, are you?" Donovan, a close childhood friend of her's questioned on the other end of the phone.

"No, Don, I'm not at the memorial anymore. I'm on my way home now, actually." She said. "What are you calling me for? Boyfriend ditch you?" she teased.

She heard a huff on the other end and smiled to herself slightly, barely visible to anyone else. Her friend began to rant about his current boyfriend – No. 6 the past few weeks. His ancestor would be proud. She shook the thought away, thinking it was too mean of a thought to think of about her friend. Myra's and Donovan's families were close, leading back to Zayne's days.

"Anyways, he's an ass." Donovan finished with an irritated huff.

"So what now, golden-eyes?" Myra questioned with a smile. "Planning on breaking up with this guy too?"

It wasn't unusual for her childhood friend to act this way. This was the sixth guy this month that he apparently fell in love with at first sight, or so she was told. Myra has been a pro at figuring out Donovan's dating chart since they were in middle school. This may have been Guy-Number-Six-Of-The-Month, but he was No. 35. She let out a soft sigh and shook her head at the memories about junior high. Donovan apparently held a strong trait from one of his ancestors and she didn't need to guess who. She heard the stories of this ancestor of Donovan's adventures in life.

"I'll be there in an hour." Myra told him, half-closing her eyes from the glare that bounced off the glass windows of the buildings to her left. She pulled out a pair of sunglasses and put them on. "With an order of Sweet & Sour chicken along with two pork egg rolls and crab rag goon."

"Oh, Myr, you're a doll." Donovan cooed happily. "Don't forget the fortune cookies. Oh, and chop-sticks!" he added.

"I won't." she laughed.

Myra tucked her phone back into her pocket and changed her direction to the right, towards her favorite China restaurant. Her stomach grumbled and she picked up her step a little in agreement. She hadn't eaten all  
day since earlier that morning before her first lecture. Myra paused when she caught her reflect in one of the tinted windows, she looked herself over briefly, noting her figure. At twenty-two, she was petite standing at 5'0. Behind her sunglasses her eyes were a bright, yet deep color of sapphire, and her honey-golden brown hair just brushed the tops of shoulders. Her great-grandmother said the color reminded of her of their ancestor's – Alistair's. She's seen painting of the Theirins of old, believed her featured resembled more of Zayne's.

Having dawdled long enough, Myra turned away from the window and walked into the building next door to it.

"What took you so long?" Don said from the doorway.

"What are you talking about? I'm right on time **_and _**I have food."

For an elf he was a head or two taller than Myra, much tanner than she was, and his pale gold hair hung loose down between his shoulder-blades and spilled over his shoulders about mid-upper arm. His golden-eyes glittered with amusement and he grinned, stepping out of the way for her to walk pass.

"I'm only kidding with you, Myr." He chuckled, closing the front door to his apartment.

"You're too much like your ancestor like your mom said." She teased with a grin, moving into the living room and set the food down on the coffee table.

Once she took everything out of the bag, she kicked off her high-top converse and crossed her legs on the couch, her back against the arm as she dug into her lunch. Donovan joined her, turning on the television and flipped it to a movie channel. He picked up the carton containing his sweet & sour chicken and started eating.

"So," he said with his mouth a bit full. He swallowed and continued, "How was class today?"

"It went well." She simply stated.

"That's it? 'It went well?' Really, Myra, that's a lame answer." Don teased.

"Well, since you skipped out today," Myra took another bite. "You missed out on information about the next class trip for History."

"Oh?" Donovan raised an eyebrow, glancing at his human friend. "Where did ol' Madam Kendrell pick this time, pray tell?" he said with feigned interest.

He never liked attending lectures for History, not when their professor for that class was Mrs. Kendrell. Donovan was the unlucky elf to enroll for her class without others of his race, especially when it came to her reading out a few phrases from their text books and emphasizing the word 'Knife-ear' as she looked at him. Myra would just glare at the professor and a few other students would only shuffle uncomfortably in their seats from the hate in Mrs. Kendrell's voice towards elves. She wanted to knock sense into the professor's head about today's society. It's been over a century and a half since the elves received proper civil rights.

"The Royal Palace." Myra said nonchalantly, now just poking at her food with her chop-sticks.

Donovan eyed her, set his food down on the table and leaned forward. He tilted his head slightly to get a better look at her face.

"It's about the blood thing, isn't it." He stated without question.

"It's a sensitive topic." Myra mumbled.

Donovan sat up and huffed, gripping his ankle with both hands as he sat cross-legged, back straight. He couldn't really understand on how Myra was feeling, but it irritated him when something like this upsets her. So far that they both knew, she was the last of the Theirin bloodline. The modern Teyrns, Bannorns, Arls and Arlessas refused to acknowledge, Myra as the heir. At that time, Myra was only ten and lived most of her life with him and his family in Antiva. It was years ago when her parents were murdered – assassinated, his mother would say.

"You're the rightful heir to the throne!" Donovan looked at her, jaw set. "They're treating you as if you're some street urchin. You have blood claim. **They** – those yellow-bellied politicians – have no claim and no right to turn your home into a museum without your consent."

"Donovan, its fine - It's not like this country needs me." Myra said, her deep, bright sapphire eyes met his golden. "Besides, what's a little lost family history? I'm learning about it in History."

Donovan's shoulders slumped a little as he looked into Myra's pained eyes. She looked away and watched the movie without much emotion showing on her face. If he wasn't into men he'd kiss her right there and then, hoping that would make it better. Life wasn't a movie; sadly, this was reality and reality hurt. Bad. Donovan sighed and leaned backed against the other arm and teeter-tottered the box on one edge with a finger. He was thinking things over, also pondering if he should call his mother or not. He was tempted **not **to call her in case she was doing _something. _

"Finish your lunch, missy. I'm taking you out on a date." Don said as he picked up his carton unfinished food and started to eat again.

Myra looked back at her childhood friend and blinked. She was taken by surprise and didn't really know what to say. _'Did he just say date?' _she thought to herself.

What Donovan meant about taking her out on a date, he meant taking her out shopping then dolling her up and taking her someplace else. Myra glanced over her shoulder with uncertainty in her sapphire eyes. Donovan encouraged her with a smile and pushed her into the changing room gently.

"I'll be right out here." He reassured her.

"Alright." She said with a defeated sigh.

Donovan looked himself over in a full body mirror, smoothing down wrinkles in his shirt with a slight frown. He brought his hands up and smoothed back his hair, moved his hands slightly underneath to lift it and tugged his hair back in a pony-tail for only a moment.

"Hey, Myr, do you have any hair clips? You know, for thicker hair?" he asked from where he was standing.

"Check the left pocket of my bag. Should be a black claw clip in there, use that." Myra answered.

He searched around the left pocket and found the medium-sized hair clip. He moved the pony-tail up and clipped it up against the back of his head, untied the hair tie he had on and it looped against his neck, the ends of his hair flared out slightly at the top. _'It's gotten longer since the last time I got it cut… I'll call Rico for an appointment next week.' _He thought to himself.

"You done in there, yet?"

"Just - come on you stupid bra – about done." Myra grumbled the middle of the sentence, but he caught what she had said and smiled a little.

"Bras are tricky things, they are." He joked.

"Donovan!" Myra warned.

He stepped back away from the closed curtain with his hands up and chuckled.

"I was joking." Donovan said.

He returned to the chair and sat vigilantly, waiting for her Princess friend to step out and reveal her maybe-new outfit. Donovan pulled out a book from Myra's bag that he put in and started to read where he left his bookmark in. Patiently, the Antivan waited until finally he heard the shuffling of the curtain and looked up. He paused at what he saw, his smile then turned into a grin.

"You look marvelous. Now, why don't you dress more girlish once in a while? It suits you." He complimented, standing up to look her over.

"Because you can't climb in a dress, that's why." She remarked, her cheeks tinged pink out of embarrassment.

Myra was wearing a soft cotton blue sun dress, empire-style, and a pair of black flats. Donovan had her wear her hair in low pig-tails that were tied off just below and behind her ears. She looked adorable to him and he just wanted to hug her like a doll.

"Honestly, Myra, you look lovely." He tried to reassure her. "No one is going to jump you for wearing a dress once in a while. Try on one more outfit and we'll go."

"Promise?" Myra eyed him wearily.

"Promise," he moved his hand in an X-formation over his heart. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

Myra rolled her eyes, crossing her arms, but she couldn't help, but smile at his childishness. He was trying to cheer her up and she could see that. Just spending some time alone with her friends made her feel better a little. Myra turned to face the long mirror and gave herself a quick once-over. She was doubtful about the outfit and the way Donovan had styled her hair.

"I look like I'm sixteen…" she said plainly.

"You do not." He said, steering her back towards the changing room. "Now change out of that and try this one on."

"Can we just go after I change back into my clothes?"

"Absolutely **_not! _**I want you to look beautifully cute for tonight." Donovan said.

Myra groaned and knew it would be impossible to change his mind now. Reluctantly, she went back into the dressing room, changed out of the current outfit and tried the other one on.


	3. Chapter 2

**~Chapter Two~**

Myra thought she looked like an idiot the way she was dressed. No matter how many times her Antivan friend told her that she looked fine, she thought other-wise. When Donovan said date she honestly thought it meant only the two of them, but turned out the _date_ was his way of saying, _"I'm taking you out to a night club in hopes to hook you up with a hottie."_ She stood away from the crowd, the _untz untz_ of the song made her heart beat along with it. Myra stared down at the neon blue beverage in the half foot long cylinder glass, rubbing the tip of her right forefinger against the curved side. With a sigh, Myra leaned up against the wall to help relief some of the pressure off her feet. Donovan convinced her to wear a pair of black stilettos.

For a quick moment, she glanced over the clothes she was wearing and felt a bit self-conscious about it. Along with the black stilettos she wore a black cocktail dress that had off the shoulder sleeves, which tapered off in a triangular point at the base of her middle finger on each hand. Around her neck she wore a gold chained necklace with individual series of thinner chains draping down, barely brushing the tops of her barely visible cleavage, and wrapped around above her hips was a gold ringed belt. Myra looked up towards the ceiling a little, groaning softly to herself. She couldn't believe she let Donovan convince her into this.

The gold hooped earrings dangled from her ears, swaying slightly from each movement of her head. Her attention was drawn to where Donovan was and saw him dancing right up against two well-toned men. She could tell one was fairly taller than her Antivan friend as a Qunari, his nicely curved back horns gave him away. The other she guessed was another elf and she made out a design of an elegant and elaborate tattoo on the possible elf's face as Dalish.

_'How rare,' _she thought, _'I thought Dalish never left their clans near Ostagar?'_

Myra was so deep in thought that she didn't notice someone standing semi-front-beside her. When the stranger cleared their throat, Myra jolted a bit and managed to not slosh her drink on herself. She looked over and registered the stranger before her. He was about the same height as Donovan, as she can tell, and had short dark hair. His eyes were golden, but deeper and richer in color compared to Donovan's. She felt drawn in to their color, as if something was coaxing her to get closer.

"Forgive me if I was interrupting your thoughts, but I was wondering," the golden-eyed stranger smiled, teeth perfectly straight and white. "Have we met before? You appear as a familiar presence here, though distant from the crowd."

"Um," Myra was still a little distracted by his eyes. "No, this is my first time here."

"Ahh," the stranger said thoughtfully, still smiling. "Well, then I apologize to you, Milady. I just thought you were familiar because of your beauty, but 'twas my mind playing tricks on me."

To Myra, the stranger spoke a bit oddly. She thought his way of speaking made him sound like he was from an older time. He bowed respectfully and gentlemanly to her, his deep golden-gaze never leaving her's; he straightened up and the smile seemed to disappear as swift as it had appeared, though his eyes held a light that shown with amusement and intrigued interest.

"You are of Theirin blood, yes?" he asked.

Myra blinked, taken by surprise by his question. Not many people have asked her such a thing, nor did she really say to them anything about her heritage.

"Y-yes," she glanced towards her friend Donovan and saw that he was looking directly at her with curious eyes. "I am a descendent of Alistair Theirin."

"Strong blood flows within you then. You are quite fortunate for such an Ancestor." The stranger stated.

"I – I guess so." Myra spoke a little softer, but the stranger caught every word.

"May I know your name?" he asked kindly.

Myra was uncertain, but felt like she could trust this stranger with her name. She couldn't really understand why, though.

"Myra." She said.

"Myra," he repeated her name softly, the smile returned. "A beautiful name befitting for a young beautiful maiden such as you."

He bowed to her again, offering out his hand to her, an odd gesture for such a place.

"May I have this dance, Myra?"

Her heart skipped a couple of beats and she felt heat rush to her cheeks. She nodded her head, placing her drink down on one of the tall, round tables and placed her hand in his. He straightened up once more and led her to the dance floor. They both danced, moving to the beat, but Myra had a little trouble matching it in the beginning. She ended up being pressed up closer against him, the blush deepening in color and her body was washed over with a sudden heat. Myra glanced up to him and her breath caught in her throat, she wanted to look away, but couldn't find the urge to actually do it.

Her dancing partner placed his hands boldly on her hips and drew her closer. His eyes appeared seductive and a bestial hunger. She hesitantly placed her arms around his neck, her gaze never leaving his as he held her to him. Their bodies seemed to move as one to the beat, but then to their own rhythm as they danced. She felt like her body was on fire, but felt no discomfort to the heat she felt. It felt like they were dancing for an eternity, but the stranger pulled away, stepping back from her and releasing the hold he had on her hips.

She looked up at him questioningly, wondering why he stopped. He simply gave her a soft apologetic smile.

"Forgive me again, but I must go." He said.

He stepped forward again and brought his hand up to her face, gently placing it against her cheek and jaw. He leaned in close and she had to tilt her head back to look up at him, but his lips brushing against her's caused her to freeze. A light shiver ran down her spine, spreading throughout her body as she closed her eyes and gasped. The golden-eyed stranger took the opportunity to slip her his tongue, deepening the kiss more as he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close again. Myra had closed her eyes and clutched at his chest, melting into the kiss. A disappointed whimper escaped her lips as he broke the kiss, but he didn't fully pull away again just yet. He had moved his hand up her jawline, his fingers brushing through her hair as he whispered in her ear.

"We'll meet again soon, Princess."

Myra closed her eyes again, but then opened her eyes moments later to Donovan touching her shoulder. She turned her head to look at her Antivan friend then looked around the other dancers, searching for the golden-eyed stranger she was dancing with.

"Who was **_that?_**"

The moment they left the night club and got into Donovan's car, Myra was bombarded by his questions. Most wanting details.

"I – I don't know." She honestly said, feeling light.

It all felt like a dream to her and the man she met was like some sort of dark prince out of a book. With a soft sigh, she looked up to the colorful lights of various restaurants, casinos, hotels and clubs. Donovan glanced at her from the corner of his eye, a grin tugged at his lips.

"Was he a good kisser?" he teased her.

"Donovan, you saw?!" Myra gaped at him

"Well, of course! So did majority of the other party-goers there!" Donovan said in his defense, though the smile never left his lips. "He was, wasn't he?"

Myra blushed, remembering the kiss all too well as if it was happening at this very moment. Donovan grinned like a Cheshire cat and a laugh erupted from him.

"You lucky- tell me everything."

The next morning, Myra woke up to the sounds of the bustling city. She sat up and yawned tiredly then got up off the comfortable couch to use the bathroom. Donovan's bedroom door was open and she could hear him faintly snoring. She then went into the kitchen and started to make breakfast. Since she didn't go straight home last night after the club, Donovan had her stay the night and gave Myra one of his t-shirts for her to sleep in. The Antivan elf soon ambled into the room groggily, blinked a few times to clear his eyes and took in the sight of his lady friend. The grey Zombie Expressions t-shirt she wore hung loosely off of one shoulder at the collar and it made him smile a little. To him, she appeared like a young pre-teen wearing one of her brother's old shirts.

"You didn't have to make breakfast, was going to order pizza." He mumbled hugging her from the side.

"Pizza isn't breakfast, Donny." Myra stated.

Donovan chuckled and went to the dishwasher, pulling out two plates and two glasses. As she cooked, he set the table for breakfast.

"So, what's the agenda today?" he asked.

Myra placed the plate of crispy bacon down and sat down herself after Donovan. She thought over possible plans, but pushed them aside, believing that they could wait.

"Mm, so far nothing today since we don't have a lecture." She said.

Once they finished their breakfast, Donovan shooed her off to take the first shower while he cleared the table. Myra gathered the blue summer dress Donovan chosen to get, as well as her outfit from last night, and went into the bathroom. She turned on the water and pulled off the baggy t-shirt and peeled out of her panties. She stepped into the shower and sighed in relief as the hot water sprayed onto her back and over her shoulders. Myra greatly enjoyed the heat from the water and relaxed more, tilting her head forward to allow more of the spraying water to hit her neck. A few moments later, she lathered her shoulder length hair with shampoo; the scent of green apples filled the steamy bathroom. Once finished with her shower, she toweled herself dry and dressed.

Donovan took longer in his shower and Myra took the chance to slip away onto the balcony. She leaned against the railing, watching as people walk by on the sidewalk and cars stopping and going at a sluggish pace. Morning rush hour was something she never enjoyed, too noisy when trying to sleep and just took too long when she tried to get somewhere for errands or school.

"Myra?" Donovan's voice called for her from inside.

She glanced over her shoulder then up to the sky, now watching the clouds skim by. Donovan joined her on the balcony, leaning back against the railing and his arms propped up on it at his elbows.

"So," she looked over to him. "With nothing planned today, what should we do?" he asked her.

"I'm not sure." She said softly.

Donovan looked down and around his street in the city, pondering over possibilities. An idea struck him and a smile came to his lips.

"Hope about we go for a walk in the park, some ice cream treats then to the library to wind down a little? Maybe they have the book you've been waiting for now." He suggested.

Myra looked at him and thought about it. She knew she didn't have anything else planned and agreed, so both human and elf left the apartment and went about their day.

"Maybe Hissra's free today, too." Donovan said.

"Maybe," Myra replied, stopping briefly at a newspaper stand and glanced over an article. "Call and see… wait, who's Hissra?"

A light blush tinged the Antivan's golden tanned skin.

"He – He's the Qunari I was dancing with." He said.

"You mean, 'dancing on top of." Myra corrected him with a sly grin.

Donovan had pulled out his cellphone and searched through his contacts. He also ruffled his human friend's hair in the process with his free hand. He ignored her protests as he brought the phone to his ear, waiting patiently for the other to pick up.

"Hello?" Myra heard a deep voice speak from where she stood beside Don.

"Hey, Hissra, this is Donovan – you know the elf you were dancing with?" Donovan questioned with a smile.

"Oh yeah, the sexy Antivan," chuckled the Qunari on the other end. "You were pretty daring out there on the dance floor."

Myra watched as the blush deepened in hue on her friend's face and tried her best to suppress a giggle. She thought this was funny, her usually flirtatious friend was blushing bad.


	4. Chapter 3

**~Chapter Three~**

"What does Hissra mean in Qunari?" Myra asked the tall, ashen skinned Qunari.

"Hissra means 'Illusions,' my mother thought it appropriate because my father was Sarrabas." Hissra explained.

"Sarrabas?" Donovan grew more curious by the minute.

Hissra nodded his horned head and smiled faintly, Myra could see that the Qunari was remembering something about his past. It may have been about his father.

"Sarrabas means 'Dangerous thing' in the Qunari tongue," he stated, "It's a name meant for only the mages within my people. In ancient days, Sarrabas were collared and banned from speaking. At that time, they believed that if a Sarrabas spoke to another, that person was believed to be possessed by a demon."

"Wow," Donovan grimaced at the thought of being ruefully collared like a Qunari mage. "That's rough."

Hissra shrugged and took a bite of Donovan's chocolate mint ice cream, the Antivan elf squeaked in surprise. Myra laughed at the expression on Donovan's face and nearly dropped her ice cream cone on the ground when she stumbled. She righted herself and blushed from embarrassment when both Qunari and elf laughed. They neared the Memorial, Myra slowing her pace a bit as she glanced up at the statue Alistair's face.

Myra wasn't paying any attention to Hissra or Donovan as she climbed the five stairs to the monument. Both the Antivan elf and Qunari glanced at each other and up to Myra. Hissra was the first to step forward, followed by Donovan.

"I wonder if my ancestor's name is on here."

Myra jolted slightly and looked at Hissra, who searched through the list of mentioned names. He grinned and pressed a couple fingers to a name.

"Ah, here he is." Hissra said. "Sten – the other part of his name is worn."

"Sten… Ah! The Qunari soldier who assisted my ancestors in the Fifth Blight!" Myra was astonished and Hissra chuckled, straightening up.

"Yep, the very one." Hissra said, smiling down at her. "Who's yours?"

Myra looked up towards the statues of Alistair and Myridia, and Hissra got the hint.

"Ah, okay." He said softly. "Donovan, who's yours?"

Donovan crouched down and doodled in the dirt with a twig, spelling something out in Antivan. He stood up and brushed his hands off, gazed up at Hissra.

"The former Antivan Crow, Zevran Arainai – hence my last name is Arainai."

"Oh, right. Ha-ha, my mistake on not catching that the first time." Hissra chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Shall we continue to the library?" Myra questioned.

At the Genetivi Library, Myra was briefly reading a couple of pages from a book she found interesting. Hissra and Donovan had disappeared somewhere and she didn't want to know why. There weren't many people in the library today, which meant it was quieter and more relaxing for her. She never really liked crowded places, too much noise, yet she attended a night club with her friend.

"I see it as no surprise seeing you here, Princess."

Myra started at the word 'Princess' and turned her head quickly to her left. The golden-eyed stranger from last night stood there smiling. His hair was tousled, as if he just ran his fingers through his short dark hair, and he wore a pair of black dress slacks and red wine colored dress shirt with a black tie and a dark grey vest. He was dressed in a professional way compared to what she remembered last night. A blush returned to her cheeks at the memory and she quickly looked away back to her book.

"I'm no Princess." She muttered.

"Your name says otherwise." He said, stepping closer to her and gently took her hand in his.

Myra was forced to face him to keep her shoulder from straining at the odd angle. Her eyes followed his movements and the blush deepened as he brushed his lips against her knuckles, his golden eyes still meeting her blues. A mischievous smirk crossed his lips as he straightened up, this time she noticed the black suit jacket draped in his other arm. Myra pulled back her hand from his grasp and he chuckled, a deep sexy rumble that unnerved her.

"What are you doing here?" she tried to speak without her voice cracking.

"This is a public library, no? I believe I have a right to be here like any other being." The golden-eyed man said, the amused look in his eyes never leaving.

"Of – of course," she mumbled lowly, embarrassed.

"You look lovely this afternoon," he complimented. "Just like last night."

Myra lifted her head up in his direction again, her eyes widened slightly. She didn't know what to say now. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came to sound and shut her mouth. The golden-eyed stranger stepped forward and Myra stepped back until her back was pressed up against the wall. They were standing between an aisle of bookshelves, not only that, a part of the library that is rarely visited by others. The golden-eyed man placed a fore arm against the wall, just slightly above her head, and leaned slightly down.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she managed to say.

"What does it look like, Princess?" he said with an amused smirk.

Myra parted her lips to try to speak again, but the golden-eyed strange took the chance to kiss her instead. Her heart skipped a beat and she froze in shock, her cheeks tingeing pink. Myra closed her eyes, soon melting into the kiss. She loosened her hold on the book she held to her close to her chest, leaning forward on her toes. They stood there for a few moments, but it ended with a clatter when the book fell to the tiled flooring. Myra started at the sound and looked down at her feet. She didn't know when she dropped it, nor actually remembering holding it. The golden-eyed stranger stepped back and bent down to pick it up, straightened up and handed it back to her.

"I believe your friends are calling for you." He said in a low whisper.

Myra gazed up to him, her bright sapphire eyes locked with his golden irises, entranced by their alluring beauty. Faintly, she could Donovan's and Hissra's voices. They were calling out her name as low as possible, but loud enough for her to hear in the library.

"I should get going." Myra murmured, mostly to herself.

"Then, let's meet again someday." The golden-eyed stranger chuckled, taking her hand in his once more and kissed the back of her hand.

Myra blushed again and nodded her head, but unsure when the next time would happen. The golden-eyed stranger turned around and started to walk away until Myra took a few steps forward and called out to him.

"Um, hey!"

"This is a library, Princess," he chuckled, "not the club."

He looked over his shoulder enough to see her. Myra was startled with the look in his golden-eyes, there was sadness to them, but it quickly disappeared as it had come a brief moment before.

"I –"she fought for the right words to speak. "I don't know your name, but this is the second time we've met…" _'And you seem so familiar to me.' _she wanted to add, but didn't.

A soft smile crossed his lips, a low chuckle sounded. He turned around and walked back towards her. Myra tilted her head up to see him better, noticing the unique gold of his eyes swirl and smolder. He lifted a hand to her face, ghosting the tips of his fingers over the side of her face and jaw.

"Someday," his voice low, full of a power centuries old beyond Myra's knowledge, "Everything shall be clear to you, Princess."

Myra couldn't look away from his swirling, smoldering golden gaze. As his eyes began to glow, Myra's breath hitched in her throat and her body tensed. He stepped back away from her and the last thing Myra remembered was the sadness in his eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut against the bright light that appeared behind him, collapsing to the tiled flooring.

"Myra!" Donovan's terror-stricken voice pierced the ringing silence.

The Antivan elf rushed to Myra's side, falling to his knees and gently cradling her head in his lap. Hissra snarled and charged forward at the man who had done this. The golden-eyed strange partially turned his body, tilted his head down only slightly as the golden gaze of his eyes intensified with power. The qunari was forced backwards, landing on his back and slid just a little ways past Donovan and Myra's unconscious form.

"Who are you?!" Donovan demanded, rage and fear taking over.

"Heed my words, a great evil awakens. She must stand as this land's future queen," the man's words were the words of a dark prophecy, "As Ferelden's last Grey Warden."

With that, he turned his back away from the three. Leaving Donovan and Hissra's minds swirling in confusion and feeling quite disturbed. Both Antivan and Qunari looked at each other the Donovan looked down to his childhood friend, tears threating to spill and his body trembled.

"Hissra," Donovan's voice cracked.

The Qunari moved over to the shaken Antivan elf. Donovan gazed up to Hissra, tears streaking down his cheeks.

"It's happening… another Blight is coming."


End file.
